


Darling I Will Be Loving You ('Til We're Seventy)

by bistiles_bilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Delinquent Stiles (kind of), Detective Derek Hale, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bistiles_bilinski/pseuds/bistiles_bilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“She's fucking with you,” he said simply, covering his face with one of his hands. “She seems to think it's her job, in the absence of any real grandmothers, to set me up with every eligible male and female in the general area. You should have met her grandson.” This time he couldn't stop the shiver as he remembered the tattoo on the man's forehead. HIS FOREHEAD.</p>
<p>Derek had stayed fairly unreadable during Stiles’ little story time, but his eyebrows did something strange that Stiles hadn't ever seen before at the mention of the grandson and yeah he looked weird. Like maybe he was constipated?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling I Will Be Loving You ('Til We're Seventy)

**Author's Note:**

> there was supposed to be more porn written into this.....that's all i have to say about it......
> 
> WARNING: there's mentions of derek severely pining for stiles' hot underage ass, just so you know
> 
> title from ed sheeran's thinking out loud <3

“We have to stop meeting like this Detective Hale,” Stiles wheezed as he felt the cold metal of handcuffs against his wrists.

He only got a growl in response, but he was counting that as a win seeing as last time Derek had only glared at him before all but snapping his teeth in the general direction of Stiles’ face.

“I'm serious, next time we should meet in a bar. Maybe have a few drinks and see where the night takes us.” He yelped out a hearty " _ow_ ” when Derek (purposefully, he was sure of it) bumped his head on the roof of the car.

“No cruiser this time? That's a shame.” Especially since a certain cruiser, and quite possibly a uniform, had been making their way into certain _dreams_ lately. “ _And_ no partner? I was looking forward to finishing up that debate with Allison on who would win in an archery battle.”

Those stupid hazel green eyes that may have also been appearing in those dreams were now staring at him in the rear view mirror and he absolutely _refused_ to squirm at the intensity behind them.

“So you're not a bar man, that's okay. How about a nice dinner?” One ridiculous eyebrow raised in that way that said, “ _you're an idiot Stiles_ ”. “Me and your eyebrows have been having a nice conversation, are you going to join in at any point in time?”

This time there was a snort.

“Were the handcuffs really necessary, Detective Hale? I think I'm possibly being chafed. Does that count as police brutality? I think it counts as police brutality.”

There's more dancing of the eyebrows, which translates into, “ _no it doesn't and you're giving me a headache Stiles_ ”. He's well-versed in the language of Hale eyebrows, he'd had many years of experience and also Derek’s little sister Cora had maybe told him exactly what every brow raise meant. He wasn't entirely sure why Derek had felt the need to arrest him and shove him against a car though, granted the can of spray paint in his hand had looked a little suspicious.

“You're not going to call my dad into the station again, are you?” Stiles asked as Derek parked the car. “I'm not twelve you know.”

The backdoor opened and Derek’s hand wrapped around his bicep (probably tighter than was strictly necessary but he was never one to complain). “Maybe if you started _acting_ like you were almost twenty, I wouldn't have to arrest you and call your dad in.”

Stiles couldn't help but snort at that, he also couldn't ignore the way Derek was brushing his fingers against Stiles’ own as he undid the cuffs. “You know, seeing as I'm almost twenty, that makes this rocking hot bod completely legal.”

Derek pushed him down into a seat before sitting on the edge of the interrogation table. “I was aware you were legal. On your eighteenth birthday. Which I was at because Cora dragged me to.”

And Stiles heart really shouldn't be hammering in his chest right now, half the Beacon Hills police force had shown for his birthday party. He was semi-popular at the station, if only because of the Snowglobe Debacle Of 2005. He shuddered and pushed thoughts of that night away, focusing instead on the heat Derek’s thigh was radiating. And he only knew that because it was practically rubbing against his shoulder.

Now granted, Stiles hadn't been to the police academy and therefore didn't know their tactics, but he's pretty sure there doesn't need to be quite this much touching and just general breach of personal space.  There was no way they would have told a face like Derek’s to come within inches of the perpetrators because that was just playing every level of dirty there was.

But there was Derek, all up in his....space.

“Do you have any idea why you were brought in Mr. Stilinski?” his stupid fucking hands were folded in front of him and resting on his legs and Jesus this just wasn't fair.

Stiles, feeling the need to gain some kind of upper hand, placed his hand on Derek’s thigh. “Maybe you should enlighten me, Detective.” It was honestly a good sign that his arm wasn't being torn from his body, instead Derek just stared at the limb.

“You need to stop swindling old ladies, Stiles."  And yeah, his voice was totally strained.

He tapped his fingers and could feel the heat through Derek’s jeans as he did, before finally saying thoughtfully, “I don't know what you're talking about officer.”

“Mrs. Kensington, Stiles, that's what I'm talking about!” Derek had now jumped up and turned around. To plop into the seat across from Stiles.

“What do you mean swindling? She asked for a dishwasher, I sold her a dishwasher.” He was only slightly confused, sure he'd pulled a few jokes on unsuspecting grandmas in high school, but he hadn't done that for at least two years.

“She called in and said ‘that Stilinski boy is at it again, robbing old ladies of what precious money they have left’ and then  demanded I bring you in for questioning myself.” Derek shrugged and leaned back in his seat, looking far too relaxed.

“That dishwasher was fine when I installed it for her, Derek!” he squeaked, not even bothering to throw a seductive anything on it. “Scott bought a new one for him and Allison and passed it off to me because he knew I could get rid of it quicker. There was not a damn thing wrong-” and oh God he knew why now.

That crafty old Mrs. Kensington was always trying to set him up with someone or another. It had been her grandson last month and Stiles had to suppress a shiver when he thought of the many, many tattoos the guy had had in places tattoos should absolutely not be. This was another one of her ploys to marry him off before the age of thirty. Oh God, he needed new neighbors.

“She's fucking with you,” he said simply, covering his face with one of his hands. “She seems to think it's her job, in the absence of any real grandmothers, to set me up with every eligible male and female in the general area. You should have met her grandson.” This time he couldn't stop the shiver as he remembered the tattoo on the man's forehead. _His forehead_.

Derek had stayed fairly unreadable during Stiles’ little story time, but his eyebrows did something strange that Stiles hadn't ever seen before at the mention of the grandson and yeah he looked weird. Like maybe he was constipated?

“Can I go home now? Maybe rip my neighbor a new one for calling in false information against her favorite pseudo-grandson. Which, wow, saying that in light of the fact that she just tried to set me up with her _actual_ grandson makes that sound awful.”

And there was that constipated look again. Maybe something he had for lunch wasn't agreeing with his stomach.

He didn't jump (er, maybe just a little) when the man in front of him scrambled to his feet, mumbling something about being free to do whatever the fuck he'd like and, just, what? The door to the room shut with a very loud thud and Stiles was, well _confused_ didn't seem to be a strong enough word for what he was feeling.

♦

Stiles had done his best to glare at Mrs. Kensington as he pulled into his drive, but she'd smiled that evil smile and waves at him and God it was hard to stay mad at the woman. Especially when she came to the window of his Jeep with a plate of freshly baked peanut butter cookies.

“So, how'd your meeting go with that gorgeous detective?” She might have been in her seventies, but she could still leer like she was in her twenties. It was kind of unnerving if he was honest.

“Meeting? _Meeting_?” He sputtered a bit before pushing the door open and saying, not quite angry but close enough, “That was a fucking interrogation, Marg! He handcuffed me and everything!”

“You're welcome,” she said with an entirely too suggestive wink.

Stiles let out an exasperated sigh as he grabbed his house key shoved it into the lock. “No, Marg, just no.” He was lucky that his neighbor was tough as nails, because slammed the door in her smirking face and didn't even feel bad. Well, _mostly_ didn't feel bad.

He was in the kitchen, pulling out whatever odd and end things he could find that and supposed would taste maybe not altogether terrible when the doorbell rang. He swore to whatever deity would listen that it wasn't a certain tattooed male with his overly-nosy grandmother on the other side. He nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Derek standing there.

“I was just making dinner.” When had his throat closed so tight it was hard to from words? He turned around, in full belief that Derek would close shut behind himself. He wasn't disappointed and fought the urge to sigh in relief when he heard footsteps behind him.

He'd barely made it two steps into his living room when his arm was being grabbed tightly, three things happened in quick succession after that.1.) Stiles was flipped around. 2.) He was shoved hard against the wall of previously mentioned living room. 3.) He realized that he might not be getting to his food as soon as he'd first thought.

Derek, ever communicative, shoved his face in front of Stiles’ and just….stood there. Derek’s eyes scanned every square inch his face, finally settling on his eyes. “Did you…? Are you….with Mrs. Kensington’s whoever?”

_What?_ Because, _what!?_ “I don't know what… Are asking if I'm…? Because of….reasons? And is there a…?” He finally settled on the most intelligent thing he could think of, which happened to be a long drawn out, “Whaaaaa?”

What he and Derek did, it was shameless flirting that never really went anywhere. It was like him and Erica when they were in high school, they constantly traded sexual innuendos that never held any promise behind them. Stiles wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with _this_. With Derek getting all close and personal and looking like he'd rather be trying to suck the air out of his lungs than having this silent stare down. Or maybe that's exactly what he was saying with his scrunched eyebrows and the way his eyes had landed on Stiles’ mouth and hadn't looked away for a solid minute.

“Fuck,” Derek nearly shouted, causing Stiles to jump more than he should of. “Stiles, are you dating him, are you dating _someone_? Because I want to kiss you and if you're in a relationship I might seriously go shoot myself in the fucking-”

Stiles didn't give him a chance to finish his morbid train of thought, just shoved their mouths together with zero finesse and pulled him closer. And _wow_ that felt good. Derek didn't take long to catch up and take control, slow it down. Which wasn't exactly what Stiles was used to in his limited experience. It was always fast and rough, one leaving first and the other following a few minutes later.

Derek was so obviously not like that. He had a hand buried in Stiles’ hair and their mouths slotted together in just the right way to make it _sweet_ instead of _dirty_. Something about it held promise for more. And then Derek was pulling away and resting their foreheads together.

“ _God_ you were such a tease when you were younger and you didn't even know it. I always thought I was some messed up guy pining after a sixteen year old like a perv. How many juniors in college do you know look at kid and say, ‘yeah, I'd wait for that ass to be legal’? Mom told me said it wasn't as weird as I was making it out to be and then reminded me that her and dad are seven years apart, told me four years was more like puddle than the river I was trying to make it.”

“Talia is a smart cookie and you should listen to her,” Stiles said, wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist and pulling him even closer. That spot between his neck and shoulder looked just comfortable enough to nuzzle in and he did with a sigh. “This better mean we're dating or I'll have Cora and Lydia de-ball you. And you know they'd do it too.”

“Yes Stiles,” Derek huffed, that familiar warm irradiation in his voice. “We're totally dating.”

**Author's Note:**

> in the midst of trying to write like 6 aus, this one decided to pop in my head and wouldn't leave me alon until i did what it wanted. the stupid fucker. comments and kudos make me want to throw up puppies and shit rainbows <333 anywho, i have a silly little soul-sucking thing called [ tumblr](http://bi-stiles-bilinski.tumblr.com/) if you want to come say hi and scream about these boys with me. also, i may have done this weird thing and made a [ tumblr](http://iknow-iwroteit.tumblr.com/) for all my writing/fanfic stuff?? if you'd wanna check that out???


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